Pro-Life At Xmas
In the south, nothing symbolizes the real ?reason for the season? like outdoor Nativity scenes.
When I was in junior high school, my youth group at the First Baptist Church in Andalusia put on a live Nativity scene one year when I was in high school, but I felt like the fleece Patagonia pullovers and fuscia L.L. Bean earmuffs took away from the suspension of disbelief that?s such an important part of good live theatre.
We weren?t being true to the historical period, and I quit in disgust. It was my first and last experimental foray into the avant-garde world of holiday performance art.
One year, my grandmother bought a big plastic outdoor Nativity set at Big Lots when they went on sale the day after Christmas. She kept it stored in her attic until the following season?s debut.
Every time I stopped by to see her, I couldn?t help thinking about the six of them ? the small family and three adoring strangers lying quietly in the sweltering crawl space above our heads in the kitchen like Anne Frank?s family during World War II. The smell of incense, myrrh and boiling collard greens must have filled the small dark space with an unbearable stench on hot summer Sundays.
Perhaps combining the New Testament of the King James Bible with the Diary of Anne Frank would open up Christianity to whole new segment of godless, literary society ? a fresh twist on an old story for the new millennium.
I imagine Mel Gibson?s screen adaptation would make Spielburg?s Band of Brothers seem boring by comparison.
My grandmother?s version of the story ended badly when baby Jesus? chest was melted that Christmas just below the sternum and the manger straw caught fire because she failed to read the tag on the socket that clearly stated using a bulb over 40 watts was a fire hazard ? it would definitely need to be rewritten for audiences under the age of seventeen.
100 watts of light did make the Christ child stand out with dramatic theatrical effect for a few hours, but it also burned half her yard and brought traffic on the highway to a standstill. In the Diary of Baby Jesus, God burns a dollar weed-infested St. Augustine lawn instead of a bush.
Unfortunately, live Nativity scenes are difficult to pull together outside the resources of churches and other faith-based community organizations.
Even with the help of a shepherd staff, my grandmother and her friends couldn?t stand out in the cold for hours without someone breaking a hip or catching pneumonia. They also wouldn?t feel comfortable around the domesticated livestock; a good live Nativity scene needs at least one lowing llama or alpaca.
This Christmas, while the age-old debates over abortion, gay marraige and live versus artificial Christmas trees get a lot of heated attention, the debate over live versus artificial Nativity scenes is entirely too neglected.
I admit that I was adamately against plastic Nativity scenes until what my family still refers to as the ?great Christmas fire of 2002."
I learned a valuable lesson.
Today you may think your lawn is better than your neighbors. Tomorrow, Baby Jesus may change your perspective.
In the south, nothing symbolizes the real ?reason for the season? like outdoor Nativity scenes.
When I was in junior high school, my youth group at the First Baptist Church in Andalusia put on a live Nativity scene one year when I was in high school, but I felt like the fleece Patagonia pullovers and fuscia L.L. Bean earmuffs took away from the suspension of disbelief that?s such an important part of good live theatre.
We weren?t being true to the historical period, and I quit in disgust. It was my first and last experimental foray into the avant-garde world of holiday performance art.
One year, my grandmother bought a big plastic outdoor Nativity set at Big Lots when they went on sale the day after Christmas. She kept it stored in her attic until the following season?s debut.
Every time I stopped by to see her, I couldn?t help thinking about the six of them ? the small family and three adoring strangers lying quietly in the sweltering crawl space above our heads in the kitchen like Anne Frank?s family during World War II. The smell of incense, myrrh and boiling collard greens must have filled the small dark space with an unbearable stench on hot summer Sundays.
Perhaps combining the New Testament of the King James Bible with the Diary of Anne Frank would open up Christianity to whole new segment of godless, literary society ? a fresh twist on an old story for the new millennium.
I imagine Mel Gibson?s screen adaptation would make Spielburg?s Band of Brothers seem boring by comparison.
My grandmother?s version of the story ended badly when baby Jesus? chest was melted that Christmas just below the sternum and the manger straw caught fire because she failed to read the tag on the socket that clearly stated using a bulb over 40 watts was a fire hazard ? it would definitely need to be rewritten for audiences under the age of seventeen.
100 watts of light did make the Christ child stand out with dramatic theatrical effect for a few hours, but it also burned half her yard and brought traffic on the highway to a standstill. In the Diary of Baby Jesus, God burns a dollar weed-infested St. Augustine lawn instead of a bush.
Unfortunately, live Nativity scenes are difficult to pull together outside the resources of churches and other faith-based community organizations.
Even with the help of a shepherd staff, my grandmother and her friends couldn?t stand out in the cold for hours without someone breaking a hip or catching pneumonia. They also wouldn?t feel comfortable around the domesticated livestock; a good live Nativity scene needs at least one lowing llama or alpaca.
This Christmas, while the age-old debates over abortion, gay marraige and live versus artificial Christmas trees get a lot of heated attention, the debate over live versus artificial Nativity scenes is entirely too neglected.
I admit that I was adamately against plastic Nativity scenes until what my family still refers to as the ?great Christmas fire of 2002."
I learned a valuable lesson.
Today you may think your lawn is better than your neighbors. Tomorrow, Baby Jesus may change your perspective.
Last edited:
Inflatable.......... that means it will spend 80% of it's time collapsed on the church lawn.
